


To the King of Plegia, From the Queen of Ylisse

by Ellisama



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M, Gen, Non-Apocalypse AU, Past Chrobin, Political
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-04-16 19:20:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4637196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellisama/pseuds/Ellisama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A long time ago, two children were born. Morgan, the future King of Plegia and Lucina, the future Queen of Ylisse. Eighteen years later for the first time in a hundred years of bloodshed between their two families, a Fellblood King sets foot in Ylisstol to celebrate the coronation of queen Lucina. However there is much more going on than meets the eye. (Very Political, Shifting POV)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 6h non-stop writing challenge and crossposted on my Tumblr, ingrimasname.

**_Morgan I_ **

> _‘Greetings to the Exalted Queen of Ylisse, Lucina of House Ylisse,’_

Morgan’s pen faltered in its movement, unsure how to proceed. There was a common saying in Plegia: sooner or later there would always be war with Ylisse. As much as Morgan detested it, there was some truth to it. His great-grandfather had warred with Ylisse’s religiously fanatic exalt, his grandfather had kidnapped and executed the next Exalted Queen after they had taken his own mother hostage and now, during his own rule the relationship with Ylisse was shaky at best. He was a young king, barely eighteen years old and already ruling for eight of them. His grandfather had been killed by the former exalt, lord Chrom when Morgan was barely ten over an offense unknown to him. He’d been crowned the boy king days later, and his mother had ruled in his stead when he was still too young to do so. For the past two years she had become even more secluded than she had already been before, and Morgan had stepped up and ruled his kingdom himself.

Now, his mother had done an arguably great job of stabilizing the country after her father’s untimely demise, despite the fact that the ancient laws of Plegia deemed women unfit rulers. She had ruled from the shadows, yes, but still very effectively. The Plegian economy was once again thriving and the broken cities were rebuild. New water wells were created and a new education system had been launched in the capital. At any rate, if it came to war with Ylisse again, at least they would have soldiers that could read, Morgan thought privately.

The newly crowned exalt, Lucina of House Ylisse was barely a few years older than him. All he knew of her was what his tutors had taught him: she was only crowned two months ago and already quite like her father in her style of rulership. Considering the fact that her family had a very long history of killing members of Plegia’s three royal families to the point that he had been the only remaining heir at the tender age of 10 spoke volumes of how much this worried him. Because even his advisors muttered sometimes, when they taught he couldn’t hear them, that sooner or later there must always be war with Ylisse.

But Morgan styled himself to be an optimistic man. Even if there would always be war with Ylisse, that didn’t mean he couldn’t postpone the ‘when’ for as long as he could. Sure, some of the older families demanded for Ylissean blood, but they had done so for generations and quite frankly, he had long grown used to people crying for him to do their bidding.

His mother had taught him well though, and even at age eighteen he had no trouble ignoring their pleas. When he rose from his study, his servants scurried out of his way, bowing deeply. He was the Fellblooded King of Plegia, descendant of Grima himself. Some believed even that his family spoke with the voice of their god himself, and they had long since used this common assumption to their advantage. Ruling a country was so much easier when people thought you had a divine right to rule. The truth was that he had never heard the voice of their deity. Sure, his mother claimed she did, but maybe that too was part of her job as Hierophant of the Plegian Faith. She was the sacrifice of her people, leading ritual after ritual dedicated to Grima. Some believed that is was because of her skillful communication with the gods that she had restored peace and prosperity, but Morgan knew better. His mother was a complete and utter genius, both in politics. Her ceremonial robes prevented people from seeing much of her face unless she was leading a ritual, and yet one look from her could silence a thousand men. The new water supply system in the capital had been entirely by her design, and after looking at her plans for the newest defense buildings close to the Feroxian border Morgan was convinced that during any battle she would be able to strategize Plegia towards certain victory.

He wondered what his mother would write to the newly crowned exalt as he wandered past her quarters. For a second it occurred to him that he could just knock on her door, but before he could even raise his hand he changed his mind. Two years ago his mother had suddenly withdrawn herself. More often than not she wandered in the old halls of the ancient castle, and not even her most dedicated servant Tharja could find her half of the  time. The sting of her sudden withdrawal he still felt keenly, but time had lessened the ache. He was a man now and a king to boot. His mother had ruled long and it had taken its toll, and he would not burden her anymore.

Instead he turned around and walked back to his study, ordering his meals to be served here instead of in his dining halls. His mother wouldn’t join his table anyway, so there was no reason for him to attend it either. The short walked had refreshed his mind, and he picked his pen back up, wetted it with ink and continued his letter. On a whim, he changed the content from his original draft drastically.

> _My blessings to your health and your kingdom, long may you reign. I, Morgan of House Reflet, King of all of Plegia, write you to inform you of my sincere congratulations to your recent coronations and my honored acceptation of your invitation to your coronation ball. I shall arrive at Ylisstol in a fortnight along with a small entourage and hope that during our many years of rulership we will find ample ways to renew the friendship between our two countries._
> 
> _With the blessings of Grima I bid you well,_
> 
> _The Fellblood King Morgan of house Reflet, King of all of Plegia_

With a resolute smile he signed the letter and sealed it with wax and his signet ring. He had originally not planned on going to the festivities and it would be hard to arrange a suitable entourage in the span of mere days. His mother and council had always bid him to remain in Plegia, merely traveling from city to city to do his duty as sacrifice to his people and never crossing the borders and find out if there was something more.

Ylisse knew that. The invitation was a mere formality as his family hadn’t accepted a single one since his own birth. His mother had always taught him to take the high ground in any situation, be it battle or in politics. They would not expect his acceptance which meant that he already had one victory under his belt. His mother had since her kidnapping in her youth not set a single foot outside her own country and had always forbidden him to do anything but the same. But she wasn’t here now, was she? She was Grima knows where, and certainly wouldn’t know he was gone till it was too late. Besides, his tutor Henry had traveled the world before he had settled down in his home country of Plegia, and his stories had always been his favorite ones. Yllistol was a beautiful place, even though it had held his mother captive a long time ago. But times had changed and he was king now. Lucina was young, mere months older than he himself if Henry’s limited knowledge was correct. He imagined her pretty face contort when she received his letter, mere days for his own arrival. Maybe they would get along and find peace, or maybe he would just sample Ylissean nightlife for a span of days before he returned to his own golden cage. His mother would be furious with him when he returned, but she wasn’t here now to stop him and being king had some advantages sometimes.

If the servant that took his letter gave any inclination that he knew of its content, he didn’t show. Morgan was well aware that in mere hours the news of his departure would have leaked somewhere, and he immediately penned a few letters to the heads of both noble and merchant houses. Those who he wrote he knew would rejoice in the possibility of renewed trade with Ylisse and all the wealth that came along with it. To other young nobles it was just as much of an adventure as it was to him.

And who knew? Maybe the new exalt and he would actually get along and he would arrange the next of their gatherings. He imagined their old ballroom, lit up with candles and filled with people. His mother had always detested such gatherings and only allowed them when it could not be avoided. Morgan did not share her sentiment, and for a second he imagined his ancient castle filled with people and dancing. It was a stark contrast with the loneliness that was his everyday reality.

**_Lucina I_ **

The moment a letter arrived with the mark of the Fellblooded on it, Lucina knew something was amiss. The letter hadn’t been send by the means of a mere bird. Instead, the messenger was a Wyvern Lord, one obviously exhausted from his travels. Why would she have hurried so much to come here if the situation was not dire?

Procrastinating no longer, she broke the seal with as much constraint as she could muster. Quickly her eyes scanned over the contents of the letter. With effort she contained her own surprise and asked a servant to summon her father.

It took the old exalt a twenty whole minutes to join her. He was barely older than forty but years of battle had left him riddled with old aching injuries. After the death of her mother he had lost most of his spark, his aunt had told her once. She had never known her father to be anything but the kind and solemn man he had been all of her life. He had never enjoyed ruling, she knew. Had he not been forced into the position after the murder of his beloved sister, he would have gladly lived and died a soldier. But Naga had other plans for him and until she came of age he had ruled the country just and well. Now, mere weeks into his retirement she could see the toll the years of his rule had taken on him.

When he came, it was with his cane in hand. “You summoned me Lucina, what’s wrong?”

Her voice was grave as she faced him. “This letter arrived before dawn. It’s from Plegia.”

“A declaration of war? Over which offense?” He concluded immediately, and Lucina handed him the letter.

“None of that.” She said while his eyes scanned over the paper. “It is a letter of acceptance to my coronation ball in two days. If this is correct, then King Morgan of Plegia will arrive here tomorrow.”

Chrom read the parchment four times before he handed it back to her. “Ha! I won’t believe that before I see the boy with my own two eyes! No Fellblood King has set foot in Ylisstol in over a hundred years!” His eyes were full of disbelief.

Lucina frowned deeply. “And yet, the messenger said that the King’s intend was sincere. He truly wishes to come.” She recounted the short conversation they had shared upon her arrival. “What should we do?”

“Wait and see, my dear.” Her father replied after a moment of silence. “If he does come, and I highly doubt it, we will have the finest rooms for him prepared. If not, then nothing has changed.”

She nodded. “But what does he mean with ‘ample ways to renew our friendship between our two countries’?  As far as I’m aware, hostility would be a better word.”

That drew another smile out of her father. “You and me both Lucina, you and me both. But I must be truthful, I am kind of charmed by his boldness. He’s roughly your age Lucina, and he came to power only two years ago. My sister always believed that peace between Plegia and Ylisse was an option, and with this new young King, she might get her way at last.”

He was lost in his memories for a moment, and then added. “Meet him gracefully Lucina, as you would greet a King of Valm. Not like a Kahn, you don’t know how particular those Plegians can be when crossed. Do not give any offence he doesn’t give. And have him watched at any time. If his intentions are ill, at least we have him cornered in our own palace.

His words seemed sensible to her, and she immediately called for a servant. “Yes father, I’ll arrange for it right away.”

Her father watched her intently while she instructed the servant. When the man was gone, he smiled at her fondly. “Oh my little Lucy. You’ve made one fine Queen.”

The old nickname made her blush. “I’ve only ruled for little more than a fortnight father, I could hardly compare to you.”

His hand rested momentarily on the sword she carried by her side, gifted to her the day she turned sixteen. “I have faith in you.” And with those words in mind, how could she ever afford to fail?

**_Morgan II_ **

Of course his mother had learned of his scheming before the sun set on the second day. She cornered him after he had finished his court duties by providing the King’s justice, a service available to all Plegians who felt that their disputes were handled unfairly by their own local courts. More often than not Morgan judged it was not the case, but there were exceptions that made this duty one of his more interesting ones. When he saw his mother sitting in his study, covered in her exceptional robes as usual, an old tremor of excitement passed through him. When he was younger she would sit right in that chair, telling him how to pronounce the ancient words from one tome or another. She had been a busy woman, but had always made time to see to his education. Those had been his happy childhood memories. But even through her veil he could see that her expression was a far shot from her kind smiles of his childhood days. He immediately straightened his back. “Mother.” He greeted her.

“Morgan, sit.” She ordered him sternly, and he did so “Now tell me honestly, did you really think I would let you go to Ylisse?”

Straight to the point as usual, his dear mother. “No.” He answered truthfully. “But I did not intend to let that stop me.”

For a moment he thought she was going to yell, but instead she sighed heavily, rubbing her temples through the thin concealing fabric. “I feared as much.”

Her forlorn voice hurt him more than he would like to admit, and he quickly thought of a new plan. “I apologize mother if I upset you. Maybe if you would join me on my travels, you would feel safer?”

“Most certainly not!” She exclaimed with more fervor he had heard from her in two whole years. “I am aware that you are a man grown and that I am no longer in a position to forbid you from going, but please my son, reconsider. You would travel to the very den of the wolves!”

His mother would know, his conscience supplied him quickly, but he muffled the voice quickly and effectively. “And yet, I feel like it is my duty as King of Plegia to secure the peace with this new exalt.”

She looked at him as she would at a small child and it made a bubble of anger well up inside of him. “Sooner or later there will always be war with Ylisse, Morgan.”

“Later rather than sooner, if I can help it.” He replied defiantly, raising himself to his full height before kneeling before his mother. “Please mother, I beg you to join me. Your wisdom would serve us all so well!”

Her eyes grew wide and then her voice was soft and calm. “My son, so trusting and naïve.” She carefully brushed a strand of hairs from his eyes. “I will not join you, and that is final. But I will allow you to go, on one condition.”

He wanted to kiss her then and there. “Name it, mother. To go with your blessing is my greatest wish.” He exclaimed loudly.

For a second she smiled like she had used to. Then it was all gone and the stern former regent of Plegia returned. “Veil yourself at any time. Do not let them learn of your face at any cost. I will provide you with decent clothing befitting of a King of Plegia.”

Of all things she could have suggested, this was not what he had expected. “But mother, that will hinder conversation! How can represent a more open Plegia if I myself am closed to them?”

Behind the veil he could see her brow furrow in anger. “You will not disregard thousand years of Plegian customs for the sake of business. We have not fallen so deeply for the sake of profit, I would think.” His mother chastised him, and Morgan nodded dutifully. If it was tradition, then he would obey. “Should the new exalt be of your liking, you may invite her to Plegia in the future where she may learn your true face.”

His earlier fantasies of balls and life in his very own home returned to him along with a very sincere smile. “Very well mother, I agree to your conditions.”

She stared at him questionable for a second, but then sighed deeply again. “When do you leave, Morgan?”

“Tomorrow morning at first light. I will ride with the Wyvern Guards, and I will be safe at all times.” He assured her, her hand resting in his.

“Not if they greet you with arrows or Arcwind.” His mother muttered under her breath and Morgan rolled his eyes discreetly.

His mother still viewed him as a child. Like he didn’t know basic strategic advantages after all the hours she had spend teaching him them? “I will be armed mother. Do not think I would be so foolish to leave unprepared.”

She planted a soft kiss on his brow, right under his crown. “Sometimes I doubt it. You are quite like your father after all, and it was his naivety that got him killed. I will not allow the same fate to befall my only son.” She rarely spoke of his father, a subject too painful to be breeched. It caught Morgan as much off guard as anything else she had said that night. “But I know I cannot stop you. Tonight you will sleep in my rooms like you used to do when you were young so I can at least remember my last memories of my son fondly.”

Childish glee filled him at the prospect, as he hadn’t been allowed to sleep besides his mother since he was a child. Their nights filled with chess and stories still brought mirth to his eyes. But his mother’s eyes were less happy, and it occurred to Morgan that she genially thought he would not return. “Oh mother, I will not die, I promise you!” With one big step he closed the distance between them and engulfed her in a strong embrace. He had outgrown her since the last time he had done so, the crown of her white hair barely reaching his chin.  

She returned the embrace, but her words were solemn. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep Morgan.”

**_Lucina II_ **

When the first Wyvern Lords were sighted, Lucina’s heart quickened. She had known they would come, for their spies had reported their course the moment they had crossed the border. She had not deemed it prudent to meet him there. Those borders were drawn up with the blood of their ancestors and it would be an ill omen for their first meeting to be upon the graves of so many soldiers.

Instead, she awaited him in the courtyard, surrounded by some guards and nobles. Her cousin Owain was at her right hand, smiling happily but ready to exercise his sword hand at the smallest of signals. Brady and his mother were present as well, although more dressed for business than for fighting. Fortunately Cyntia was amongst her Pegasus knights, atop her dark mount and well dressed to defend her. No harm would overcome her, she chanted to herself. She would be courteous to the man and welcome him into her house, no matter how his grandfather had killed her own aunt in cold blood. Her father had told her some stories of the time. He had loved a Plegian woman once, he had confided in her, and she had been shocked to hear her speak of any woman besides her mother in such a way. “But that was a long time ago, and she is long dead.” He had finished abruptly, and she had wondered if there hadn’t been more to the story.

The Wyvern Lords landed swiftly, swarming the courtyard. From their midst, a tall figure stepped forward, and all other’s bowed deeply for him. They parted quickly for this figure veiled in black, purple and gold. His travel cloak was simple yet exquisite, but it took until he unhooded himself for her to realize that this man was the Boy King she’d been waiting for. His hair was obscured by the dark clothing that made up his rather modest clothing, and if it hadn’t been for the golden crown atop his brow, she would have mistaken his for an assassin.

He removed a single layer of clothing that revealed little more than his eyes. To her surprise, they were kind and excited. “My greetings to the Exalted Queen of Ylisse.” He greeted her formally, making the slightest of bows.

She returned the favor with a formal curtsy. Ylisse welcomes the King of Plegia. We are honored by your arrival, my lord.”

“As am I by your invitation.” He countered formally, and just like that the worst of it was over. To her surprise, he offered her his arm. “What a marvelous city, I must say! So much different from my own home? I pray, dear queen, that you will give me a tour of your castle.”

Had he not sounded so sincere she would have refused him, but his eyes sparkled like her father’s did when he was captivated by something, and she had never been able to deny him anything when he did so. “If that is your wish. Are you not tired of your journeys?”

The King laughed good naturedly. “Tired of sitting still, perhaps. Wyverns are fickle beings, I must confess. One must try to appease them at any time.”

“I can imagine.” And like a dream, she guided the King of Plegia through her childhood home with her hand on his arm. Despite the fact that most of his visage was obscured by his intricate clothes, she could see him radiate with interest for the stories behind every arch of the old castle. He was nothing like the people from her father’s stories.

“Excuse me if I am asking too much of you, my queen, right before your coronation ball.” He apologized when he noted the awkwardness of her stance which had absolutely nothing to do with fatigue. “I don’t travel much, and never out of Plegia before. As such, I am simply overwhelmed with curiosity.”

“I can see that.” She said before she could stop herself. Her directness was a habit she had inherited from her late mother, and although it pleased her that some trace of her lived on in her, it was most unfortunate during diplomatic visits like these. “My apologies, I am simply a little overwhelmed with duty as well.”

His eyes smiled kindly, no forgiveness needed. “I can image. Then, I will leave you to your duties until dinner. I am afraid I do not know the Ylissean customs concerning the matter…?”

“As our honored guests you will dine with my father and I a few other esteemed guests.”

“So, at a table!” He exclaimed in relief, and she could not conceal the fact that she was slightly miffed by his words. “I’m sorry, I’ve heard all kind of stories about Ylisse.” He apologized quickly.

“And I of Plegia. Although your… intricate garb was not one of them.”

He held up his arm to inspect the clothing himself and through his veil she could barely make out his smile. “To be frank with you my Queen, neither had I. But apparently it is custom for a member of the Royal family to never show his face in another country. It is a pain, but it cannot be helped.”

“Surely you as King could change such a thing?” She questioned carefully, but he waved her away sadly.

“Against the current of ancient tradition I am but a pebble.” He said solemnly, his eyes aging in mere seconds. “But maybe in time, I can bend the stream to my will. We shall see, shall we not?”

After that, he was quickly escorted to his own chambers, and she was glad of it. The King of Plegia, the Boy King, the Fell Blood…. Was actually very nice and unguarded. She wondered briefly if it could all be a ruse, but discarded the idea quickly. He was like her in many way, too young wearing a crown too heavy, uncertain of how to act. It was a relief in some ways.

**_Morgan III_ **

The rooms were lovely. The castle was immensely beautiful and light, unlike his own home where every window was small to provide cover from the harsh wind, sand and sun. But here was life in every corner, full of people and stories to discover. But the most pretty of them all was the  Queen herself. She was as awkward as he felt, her hand resting stiffly on his arm. He probably should have been more formal with her, but the immediate feeling of a kindred spirit made it hard for him to curb his desire for knowledge.

Her appalled face when he asked for how dinner was served was more amusing than pretty though. How could he have known that Henry’s wild tales of the Ylissean hunt were just that: fairytales.

When he was summoned for dinner, he allowed himself to take off one layer of protective clothing. His mother wouldn’t know if he showed his nose and mouth to the kind queen. Certainly it would make eating so much more pleasant. Besides, his hair and body were still very much covered. Truly, this could not be so wrong?

The dinner table was surprisingly ordinary for his tastes, as he still held a small amount of belief in his old tutors stories. But alas, the food was exquisite yet ordinary. The queen was kind yet exquisite, and he was delighted that he was seated in front of her. Her watchful father caught his wandering gaze, and gasped softly.

“Is something the matter, my lord?” He inquired politely.

The old Exalt shook his head violently as if he was trying to forget a nightmare. “Nothing. Merely your eyes. I had the pleasure of meeting Princess Robin of House Reflet a few times. Your eyes are just like hers.”

“Thank you.” He answered politely like he hadn’t heard the comparison a thousand times before. “But I inherited them from my mother, not my aunt.”

Chrom nodded absentmindedly, the spark gone from his eyes. “Ah yes, Lady Aversa. She couldn’t come?”

“Her health is fragile, I’m afraid.” He apologized on his mother’s behalf, not mentioning her complete and utter loathing of the country of Ylisse. Then again, this was the country that had held her captive during her younger years, perhaps with her younger sister Robin as well. He’d never gotten the full tale out of his mother, for it pained her to speak of her days in captivity.

It was hard to imagine that the kind former Exalt in front of him was the same one that had killed his grandparents.  The man asked some other questions about his country, as did many others. Amongst them was an old friend of his, Inigo, the son of the Duke of Rosanne. He didn’t seem to recognize him until Morgan spoke to him directly after dinner.

“Don’t you recognize me, Inigo?” He asked plainly over they settled down in a different room for tea. The blue-haired young man looked up at him strangely, not expecting a King to grace a duke’s illegitimate son’s presence. Morgan felt his eyes rake over his visage, and it felt very uncomfortable. Then, Inigo’s eyes lit up in joy.

“Surely you cannot be the child I played with as a child?” He exclaimed happily.

Morgan merely nodded. “Though I suppose these veils make it hard for anyone to recognize me. In my defense, as the only heir to the throne of Plegia you could have made the connection yourself.”

“Morgan, of course!” He suddenly exclaimed as if he retrieved something from the depths of his memories. “I had forgotten your name to be honest. We haven’t been in Plegia in years, and the last time I saw you I was utterly unaware that you were a prince. A high noble’s son, but a future King? I suppose I was too young and stupid.”

Something in his smile was mischievous though, and it reminded Morgan altogether too much of their childhood games not to be suspicious. “If so, then why are you laughing at me like that?”

“I’m just imagining how these people would frown if I told them that once upon a time I had to stop the exotic King of Plegia from either electrocuting or boiling the baths of Plegia because there was a roach in them.” “Or how we pretended to be dead so we could lanch a surprise attack on it, only to be fissed out by our worried parents who thought we had actually drowned!”

“Roaches are scary.” Morgan defended himself, trying not to pout and failing horribly at doing so.

“They are.” Added Lucina, whose voice came out of nowhere. Morgan blushed heavily when he realized she had heard the entire story. “Once I stole my father’s sword from him because was convinced that nothing but the power of Naga herself could destroy such a fowl being.”

It turned out that Lucina had some stories about Inigo too that made him blush, and the three young adults happily bonded over their childhood mischief. Morgan pretended not to notice the former Exalt’s eyes burning into the back of his skin the entire time.

**_Lucina III_ **

That evening felt like she had transported back to her childhood days. Due to their somewhat illegitimate birth, she and Inigo had always bonded well as children. He had been much more shy back in the days though. To think that she and this King had shared playmates seemed almost unreal. But then again, to the people from Valm Ylisse and Plegia was all much the same, and business was business. That Duke Virion was a personal friend of her father did not change his opinion on Plegian business it seemed. The duke was a major flirt but had never married like her own father, although for different reasons. His long time mistress, a shy and sweet former dancer named Olivia was his wife in all but name, and her son next in line for the title of Duke.

Her own father was some sort of a sap, her aunt’s words, not hers. He had loved her mother dearly and she had borne him a child. The war had been no time to marry, he had explained to her as a child when she had asked why people called her the bastard princess. She had been his wife in all things except for the ring on her finger. They would marry after the war, but she had fallen pregnant and died shortly after giving birth to herself. Lucina apparently took after her in some ways, but when she looked in the mirror all she saw was her father. The former exalt had refused to marry, despite many a noble woman’s ardent efforts. Some other nobles had tried to shove her cousin in the line of inheritance, but her father and aunt had been persistent. In confidence, she knew that Owain was as well. He was a good boy, or young man she should say, but far to jubilant to sit in a chair and rule a country all day. She envied him from time to time.

Over time, it was clear that her father favored her and with the brand of the exalt in her eye, nobody could contest her right to the throne. Still, the moment her father had put the heavy crown of the exalt on her brow and claimed her Queen of Ylisse a weight far heavier than the crown settled on her shoulders. She was but a young woman, and now the queen of her country! Thankfully all had gone well, and her friends had eased her through her transition of princess to Exalt.

And now there was this King, strange like her, casually sliding in where she had labored to fit. All would love him, and she already felt some sort of bond. Maybe it was the fact that they were both young, or maybe it was merely an old law of girl meets boy. Somehow she suspected it wasn’t the latter, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Nevertheless, sleep hardly came that night.

The next day all went by in a hurry. There were last minute state agenda points that needed her attention as direly as her seamstress needed to make some last minute adjustments to her gown. She preferred more ordinary clothing to the intricate dress, but conceded that on her own coronation ball in which all the important world leaders would be present, she might settle for something a little more regal. The people smiled fondly upon tonight might back her reign tomorrow.

Briefly, she wondered what the King of Plegia might wear. His veils, probably, although Inigo’s playful recollection of their shared youth had revealed that the concealing garbs were new. In the back of her mind, her father’s voice gave words to her suspicions. _What kind of weapons could he be hiding underneath them? And if so, what did he plan to do with them?_ She waved the thought away as soon as it came. There were plenty of other things to occupy her mind, and quickly the sun set and the ball in her honor began.

She arrived early, forsaking a dramatic entrance for some good conversations with her own nobles. Owain and Brady were quick to find her and Cynthia joined with her mother and father not too long after. Sumia had always been kind to her, as had her husband, Fredrick. The former knight, now forced into retirement, had made it his life’s duty to ensure her happiness and safety as a child. That their only child had followed in both of her parent’s footsteps by joining the Pegasus knights to protect the Royal Family surprised absolutely nobody. Still, it was comforting to once again see so many people from her childhood.

 She then spotted her father, talking to the King of Plegia again. For a man so hateful towards the country, he took a quick liking to their new King. Then again, the young man was both charming and disarming at the same time without losing his position of power for a second. He had been a King since infancy, and it showed. Lucina herself only hoped she cut a similar figure as the veiled King on her own coronation ball. At least her father was impressed, and the relationships between their two countries might actually become a friendship of sorts after all. What had seemed so unlikely days ago was a viable option today. How quickly fate changed, Lucina marveled to herself, if only one wasn’t afraid to challenge it. He met her eyes briefly, kindly, and then strode towards her and asked her for a dance.

Her father looked suspiciously at the King for entirely different reasons and claimed that the first dance should always go the the father. Lucine was pretty sure that such rules only applied at a wedding, but she signaled the musicians to start anyway and allowed her father to lead her to the dance floor. His dancing was average at best, with his bad leg aching up during several steps. But she had learned to dance in between the safety of these arms and was content to avoid a foot or two in return for her father’s strong embrace. The next dance was for her cousin, Owain, and as usual they enjoyed themselves tremendously since he was a most enthusiastic dance partner. The third dance was for the King of Plegia however, who had happily danced with Nah of all people. For a girl often perceived as an outcast, she was a princess in his arms and she seemed pleased with his undivided attention. She dared to say she spotted a soft blush on his cheeks as well and it was endearing, in a way.  When they parted she felt almost guilty, but accepted King Morgan’s hand anyway.

“She’s lovely.” He whispered in her ear as they danced. “Is she perchance a manakete?”

Lucina nodded, surprised by his alertness. “How did you guess?”

“She has the voice of a woman yet the body of a child.” He summarized correctly, his eyes straying over the girl dragon. “And her ears, too, were a giveaway.”

“Nevertheless, my current dance partner is certainly a beauty as well.” He teased her lightly, and she had to refrain herself from giggling. There was something natural to dancing with this man, akin to dancing with her father, if he hadn’t had two left feet.

“She has not inheritance or lands to speak of though, I should warn you.” She confided in him while he spun her around once more. “She is a childhood friend of mine, and graced me with her presence tonight for personal reasons.”

“A queen, friends with a commoner? Preposterous.” He exclaimed with a high voice. When she frowned, he smiled and twirled her around. “I’m jesting! I am a bastard child myself! It would be horrible of me to look down upon her when her only sin is her lack of title when truly I have wished for it many times.”

“You’re a bastard child as well?” This was news to her. The Plegian royal family was covered in intrigue and even its own citizens knew little of their private affairs. Lucina was sadly not as lucky, and the entirety of Ylisse had felt the need to know of her childhood.

“Ah, who would have known that the Exalted Queen of Ylisse and the Fellblood King of Plegia had so much in common?” He wondered out loud, and she was well aware that their dance and talk had caught the attention of many a noble of both Plegia and Ylisse. “Then again, I knew it the moment I laid eyes upon you that we were kindred spirits!”

Lucina smiled kindly, and bowed to the King. The dance was over, and to dance any longer would cause a scandal. She had other nobles to please, the Khans of Feroxi to speak and above all a lot of information to sort through.

Besides, King Morgan was glad to rejoin his previous dance partner for the rest of the night.

**_Chrom I_ **

Two days after Lucina’s grand coronation ball, the former Exalt still couldn’t quite get a hang of the Plegian King. Personal experience had taught him that they could not be trusted. The former King had killed Lucina’s mother in cold blood only because she had carried his child, and left him a widower at the tender age of nineteen. But this Morgan was hard to hate with the same intensity as he felt for his grandfather, which was even more confusing. In mere days the future of their two countries seemed to have changed drastically. Too drastically or such a short span of time, his consciousness whispered in the back of his mind. Yet there was something about this young King that made him want to trust him, despite many reasons not to. During the departure dinner he shared a look with his dearest younger sister, who pointed discreetly at her own glass.

Lissa had long ago deduced a great method to discover people’s true intentions. It was very easy; you take a glass of wine and accidentally drop the contents all over the person of interest. If they are merely faking their sunny disposition, their smile will become strained. If they are sincere, they will probably get a little annoyed but forgive you easily enough. And if they just don’t care…

King Morgan looked at the spoiled veil with glee in his eyes. “Don’t worry about it!” He exclaimed without ever losing his smile, and easily discarded the piece of thin fabric. Underneath another slightly more formfitting dark purple shirt was revealed. “Truth to be told, it happens to me all the time! My mother often tells me I break everything in sight!”

If they don’t care at all they either want something from you or are genuinely nice people. “I do apologize my King, I do hope that this doesn’t change your view of our Kingdom or my daughter. ” He apologized formally, something he had been well-versed in ever since he had become exalt back in his teens. Truth to be told, it seemed like little could sour the young man’s opinion on anything.

Morgan’s smile instantly became diplomatic. “Of course not, they are both lovely!” He exclaimed earnestly, only to blush slightly after Chrom started scowling. “I didn’t mean it that way, don’t worry! I mean, she’s a lovely woman but…”

And insulting his daughter too, now? Wasn’t she good enough for him? “But what?” He replied with as much politeness as he could muster despite the anger rising within him.

“Well, she looks a little bit too much like my mother to be honest. My mother is a most beautiful woman of course!” He amended quickly, and Chrom felt his own scowl lessen. “Yet, to court a woman who shares your mother’s features…. It would not be right.” King Morgan finished explaining, his eyes scanning the room for a certain manakete he imagined. He was not blind, or at least not anymore.

From a short distance, his daughter thanked the Plegian King for his sincere compliment, and Chrom tried not to blush. His old tactic might not have gone as unnoticed as he would have liked. “I might say the same if I could see more of yours, my King.” Lucina added slyly.

The King touched the veil that covered his hair momentarily as I he had forgotten it was there. “Oh my hair is quite like yours, my Queen, nothing special truly.” To demonstrate this, he pulled out a very small lock of blue hair from under his headpiece. To Chrom’s surprise it was indeed quite similar to Lucina’s, though slightly darker. If he hadn’t known better he would have said that it looked just like….

 “I must thank you for your continued hospitality though.” The King interrupted his thoughts before they could lead him astray. “As the first Plegian King to enter this palace in Grima knows how many years, you have shown me nothing but kindness.”

“As have you.” Lucina answered kindly, a sincere smile on her lips.

“I would hope to repay the favor and invite you to visit Plegia sometime in the future.” The Plegian King invited them casually, and Chrom was immediately brought back to the last time he had visited the castle. After all the blood he had painted on their walls, it might not be a good idea to make a return visit for some time.

But Lucina was young and didn’t share his sentiment. “Of course! The last time anyone of the Royal family was in Plegia was eight years ago. I would love to see more of our neighbor country.”

For the first time King Morgan’s face grayed in discomfort. “I am aware of the circumstances of your father’s last visit.” He said diplomatically, and Chrom held his breath. The last time he had warred against Plegia was right before Morgan was crowned the boy King, and his mother Aversa had been forced to rule in his stead. Did his daughter really have to remind the King of the fact that her father had killed his grandfather?

But all his worries were for naught. The King didn’t smile as kindly as before, but his eyes were full of forgiveness. “But the past is the past, and we should let it rest.” His words strengthened the resolve Chrom had already found in the young man’s eyes.

“A new queen and a new king. Perhaps it is time for a new relationship between our two countries as well.” Lucina argued as her mother would have done. “Very well, I accept your invitation and will accompany you to your home.”

“What!” Two simultaneous shouts echoed through the dining hall, effectively ending all other conversations. He shared a small glance with the Plegian King, who had not intended his invitation to be accepted so quickly if his shocked expression was anything to tell by.

But his daughter rose with grace as if she was unaware of the previous outburst. “Dear Friends,” She proclaimed, taking advantage of all the attention that was focused on her. “These past few days the friendship between our two countries has prospered, and the King of Plegia has graciously offered me his hospitality in his house. Tomorrow I will ride out with him. All who wish to join me on this journey to Plegia are welcome to, for I hope that our friendship will be long and prosperous.”

While his daughter sat down, he resisted the urge to whisper to her if she was out of her mind. But her voice had held authority, and he was reminded why he had elected to pass on the title of Exalt to her in the first place. Diplomacy had never been his forte, but his daughter was born for it. When she momentarily met his eyes she knew that neither the Plegian King nor himself could stop her: she had made up her mind and it was final.

Which was why he was packing his bags the same night. Fredrick and Sumia had quickly been informed of his daughter’s plans and had vowed to protect her along with him. They had been by his side when he had entered the castle the last time, and he felt safer that they had his back this time around as well. Some of his other old friends who had come to the castle to celebrate his daughter’s coronation were being informed as of right now, and he wondered what Lucina had been thinking when she had invited herself to Plegia.

All she had said was something about taking the high ground, but it didn’t make sense to him. Then again, she was her mother’s daughter so he shouldn’t have been surprised.


	2. Plegia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And it is finished.

**Morgan IV**

His mother was going to skin him alive, his crown be damned. The woman had a trauma concerning Ylisse’s royal family to the point that she had refused to set foot in their country for over a decade. The very mention of the previous exalt was a sure way to make her despise you, as the royal council had noticed quite early.

And what had her beloved son done? He had managed to somehow accidentally invite not only the previous but also the current exalt, and half of their private army of ‘shepherds’ to boot. If he could he would have politely retracted the invitation, but the Exalt had already accepted it in public, and there was no diplomatic retreat possible. The Queen knew that, he could see it in her eyes. They gleamed like his mother’s did when she had bested someone with their own words, and he had learned early on in his life that women like those were more dangerous than an army at your doorstep. He had tried to delay the visit by suggesting that he would have to send for more Wyvern Lords that could accompany the Ylissean Royal family. But the queen had swiftly replied that she had trained as a Dark Flier in her youth and was therefore quite capable of riding a Pegasus to Plegia herself, thank you very much. In his own panic he had yet to come up with more strategies to delay them, but none of them had worked. They were mere days away from the capital and time was running out. Sometimes he caught Queen Lucina’s eyes and wondered if they was all just revenge for the stunt he had pulled on her not so long ago.

There were some good sides to his little mistake as well. The lady Nah was joining him to his home country. She had frowned when he had mentioned the very word Plegia, and he was eager to rectify her views of his country. For a moment he dared to imagine her wearing traditional Plegian robes, and he had to fight the blush that was forming on his cheeks. He quickly tried to focus again on the problem at hand.

He should have send a messenger ahead to his mother. If he had known what to write her, he certainly would have. But every night when he had set his pen to the paper, he couldn’t quite find the words. He was King now, he reminded himself, and he didn’t need anybody else’s permission for a diplomatic return visit from the Ylissean Royal family. But he would have liked to have hers nonetheless. Morgan was also well aware he wouldn’t get it. His mother would flee the castle under the ruse of some duty or another, taking away Morgan’s opportunity to change her mind about Ylisse. They weren’t so bad once you got to know them! And so he had eventually decided not to write at all, a decision that he regretted as much as he approved of every other second.

At least his company seemed eager to see his capital. Lucina had somehow gathered her own entourage of merchants that were enthusiastic to get a taste of the rumored Plegian riches. Morgan knew they would not be disappointed. She had also brought along some nobles, who were mostly personal friends of her. Her own cousin Owain had quickly declared himself as Morgan’s own personal rival for no particular reason. He didn’t know if the term had a different meaning in the Ylissean dialect but strangely there was no animosity involved with being a rival at all. They had engaged in some verbal sparring and Morgan had enjoyed himself quite thoroughly. Brady, the son of the Duchess of Thermis, had joined in as well, but he was rather solemn and Morgan hadn’t really gotten a good grip on him. At least Inigo and he were renewing their old friendship, and for a Boy-King who had been locked up in his own castle for the largest part of his life, he was having the time of his life.

But he couldn’t help but notice that the older members of their party were less enthusiastic. Duke Virion had visited the Plegian court time and again, and had no such qualms but others looked anxious at best. Some of them had ridden with the former exalt in his last campaign against Plegia, and he had no doubt that they questioned his good intentions. Prince Chrom himself seemed anxious, his eyes darting between himself and Queen Lucina whenever the former Exalt though he wasn’t looking.

Morgan hadn’t grown up in the political scorpion pit that was the Plegian Royal Palace to not recognize that something was brewing. For a second he was worried: Ylissean’s finest knights were among his party, and would soon have free access to the Capital and Royal Palace. But as soon as the thought had come to him, it went away. He had seen Queen Lucina’s heart, and it desired peace above else. It was a sentiment they shared, and something he could put his trust in. I calmed his mind, and a smile reappeared underneath his veils.

It didn’t last more than a day, for when the capital came in sight, so did a veiled woman awaiting him in the courtyard. His mother was in for a big surprise, and frankly, he hoped he would survive it as well.

 

 

**_Lucina IV_ **

Plegia was heat was dry and invading, and for the first time Lucina understood why the Plegian king wore as many layers as he did. Her years as a Dark Flier had prepared her for the wind in her face, but not for the sand. It got everywhere, as her father liked to complain from time to time.

Although that might have also been his anxiety. She could see it in his every move, the reluctance to follow her into what he had privately dubbed, the den of the dragons. But, as she had reminded him, those dragons were dead and buried, and a new king reigned in Plegia. The memory of blood on his hands would not dissuade her from forming a long standing healthy relationship with their neighboring country.

Perhaps it was a foolish thing to do, perhaps it was all a trap, but like the Plegia King, she felt a desire to explore this land so unlike her own. With every village they passed, her curiosity grew. People were eager to watch her, dressed from head to toe in whites and blues, but she was not spoken to by any native. Her host was regarded with amazement and worship, and she felt for the young King. Nobody wants to be put on that kind of pedestal.

After a two week journey through desert sands and wastelands that were surprisingly charming, a strange city loomed in the horizon. Under the bones of some ancient being, the rumored city made of gold and marbles shone in the bright desert sun, a flower in a sea of sand, and for a strange second, Lucina felt like home. But one look at her father’s drained face, sitting dutifully behind Sumia who had managed to keep him in check during the entire journey, and the magic was gone.

His eyes were glued on a short woman, veiled like the King in a flurry of black and golden robes that danced in the wind. King Morgan mirrored him, and he too seemed to think the woman was death herself, and for the first time since she had mounted her Pegasus to undertake this near legendary journey, she considered turning around.

But she didn’t, and instead let her Pegasus descent into the courtyard of the Plegian capital and met the woman’s eyes with grace. But her gaze merely grazed her, before it settled on her father with an unspoken fury that could rival the heat of the blazing sun above.

“Chrom of Ylisse,” the former Queen Regnant’s chilly voice echoed through the desert, her eyes piercing like ice and her tone even colder. “You are not welcome here. Return my son to me, and I will allow you to leave this city unharmed.”

“Mother-“

“Silence, Morgan!” She hissed at him, making him flinch. When she saw his reaction, her tone softened, and she opened her arms to him. “Mother will keep you safe.”

For a second the strong Plegian King she had come to know over the past month disappeared and a boy was left in his place, eager to please his mother. But before he could run into her arms and bow to her every whim, he straightened his back, and the King had returned. “I am safe and sound, and you are insulting my guests, mother. Please, may I introduce to you the Queen of Ylisse.” He gestured politely at her, and Lucina made a show out of her bow, pretending that the woman had not potentially soured the newly found bonds of friendship between their two country in the span of a single minute.

“I…..” For a second, the woman seemed torn  between returning the gesture and whacking her son for disobeying her. In the end, her sense of duty won, and she bowed to her King’s wishes. “I see.” And without another word, the strange veiled woman bowed deeply to her son and turned around, leaving the entire entourage baffled, but none as much as her father.

He stepped forward before she could put a hand on his shoulder to stop him, his every footstep another breech in protocol and tradition. This visit was going down the drain faster than she could have ever imagined, and a single look at the Fellblood King was enough to ensure her that he held the same sentiment. With a withheld breath, she watched him move, unable to stop him.

The Plegian King’s Guard stopped him before he could catch up with the former queen, and his whisper was almost lost to her in the desert wind.

“… Robin?”

The woman halted dead in her tracks, and turned around, the dark veil over her face preventing any onlooker the pleasure of seeing her full expression, but her tone of voice was enough.

“Robin is dead.” She spat out, whatever little was visible of her dark brown eyes filled with a fury that Lucina only ever saw in a mirror. “And you killed her!”

 

 

**_Morgan V_ **

His mother was often called a serpent by those who thought she couldn’t hear them, and not for the first time, he could see why. Her eyes promised sweet death to everyone who dared to meet them. King Chrom visibly stumbled back from the strength of her raised voice, as would any sane man. Before he could unsheathe his sword and potentially cause a greater drama than his mother already had, Queen Lucina came to the rescue.

With a strange combination of strength and gentleness, she pulled her rambling father away from the guards, made a grand statement about the heat of the desert and the illusions that it may or may not induce in the elderly. The Duke of Roseanne immediately come to their aid and started recounting stories of his own heat induced follies to perplexed nobles and merchants alike, and for once nobody seemed to mind his outlandish and obviously fabricated tales.

With effort and a surprising amount of teamwork, they managed to salvage the situation somewhat until the moment the former King broke from his daze, shrugged off his daughter’s grasp, and strode straight towards him.

For a second Morgan thought he was going to die, for certainly enough emotion was swirling in the man’s eyes to kill him on a whim. His guards warned him not to come any closer to their King, but the former Exalt seemed deaf to their words, and Morgan immobile under his searching eyes. When the hand that may end his life reached forward, Morgan drew up his hands to stop him, but despite his age and injuries, Chrom was faster.

Instead of punching his face or wringing his neck, the man gently held on to his chin and looked him deep into the eyes. In the back of his mind, he could hear the Exalted Queen and her entourage cry out in outrage, but between this man and himself nobody could come.

“What..?” But before he could finish his question, the man found what he had been looking for, and moved his hand up in one, swift motion. With it came off his headpiece and several of his protective layers of clothing, and for the first time in a month Morgan felt the wind sweep through his unprotected hair.

Chrom’s eyes went wild, and he stuttered something Morgan couldn’t quite get before he was tackled to the ground by five guards and a feisty mage. “Robin!” He cried, his voice in outrage but his eyes still glued on him, and not for the first time since their disastrous return to his homeland did Morgan feel like a little lost child, swept away by past events that were bigger than him.

“P-please, he meant no harm,” he stuttered out, uneasy under the scrutiny of those fierce blue eyes. “The desert heat, Grima knows, can be very dangerous to those not used to it. Please, former Exalt, calm yourself and allow me to bring you inside, where the shadows will cool you.”

Chrom didn’t seem inclined to answer him, but his daughter had seen enough and was quick to take him away, muttering apologies for his behavior all the way.

“Come with me,” he whispered back when they strode next to each other, both pretending that nothing strange was going on while their respective parents were making a fool out of themselves in front of all the wrong people. “Whatever is going on between our families, it is best not discussed here.”

“Would you mind if I did not follow you unaccompanied?” She asked, and she pointed to a few of her closest acquaintances while she supported half of her rambling father’s weight. His trusty old knight which had previously been introduced as Frederick flanked his other side, a puzzling look in his eyes.

“I was seconds from suggesting it myself. Perhaps they too can shed some light on this situation.”

“Perhaps there are things these two should know, milord.” The knight named Frederick affirmed.

 “Please, sit down. I’m sorry for the lack of chairs, these are my private rooms and I hardly entertain any guests here.” Which was a fancy way of saying never, really. The king of Plegia did not have any friends at court, only subjects, teachers and enemies.

His private quarters were no place for a royal meeting between Ylisse and Plegia, but it was the only place that he was sure his words would not be overheard by anyone who wasn’t supposed to hear them in the first place.

“It will do, thank you, your grace.” The old knight bowed shortly to him and helped the former exalt into a chair. That seemed enough to put the man out of his shocked silence. With an abrupt movement he took in his surroundings, allowed his eyes to fall upon his daughter, sister and old friend before it finally settled on him.

“Morgan.” He spoke his name softly for the first time, as if he tried to taste it the syllables and somehow make a meaning out of it, before he repeated it once more with more strength.

“That is my name.” Morgan replied, trying to keep the deadpan out of his voice, but failing to do so. The old exalt broke into a smile, a snicker escaping from his lips that was so entirely out of place in his ancient study full of dark green and gold.

When he spoke again, his tone of voice was informal. “You’ve got your mother’s wit.”

“Considering the meeting, I can safely assume you knew her?” Morgan replied diplomatically, trying to remain formal even in the face of a smiling old king.

The former exalt nodded, his eyes misting over for a split second. “Better than you know her, perhaps.” And Morgan doubted that statement very much. After a dreadful silence, the man’s smile fell from his lips, and a frown replaced it. “Or at least, that’s what I thought. Robin always liked her secrets and mysteries.”

Perhaps, Morgan thought, the desert heat had affected the former exalt. “I’m sorry, but my mother’s name is Aversa. My aunt-“

But he was interrupted before he could speak another word. “Your mother always was a smart woman, and few people knew both Aversa and Robin, but I happen to be one of the few who did.” He smiled for a second, his hand resting on his daughter’s. The queen was quiet, but her eyes betrayed her every thought. “Aversa was a very tall woman, but Robin was not. So unless your mother has recently shrunk a lot, I have no doubt in mind who stood in front of me just now.”

 

 

**Lucina V**

She had never seen her father look like that, with eyes full of wonder and sorrow and delight, an electrifying blue instead of the dull grey it had been fading into for as long as she knew him. But here, speaking of a woman he had known, here in this godforsaken palace so far away from home, is where he showed his true colors.

There was a secret here, hidden behind these black and green walls, underneath velvet sheets and ancient rugs. Lucina remembered asking about her father about his past before, but he would always shrug her off with a few words, reminding her that it was the future she should concern herself with. No matter how hard she tried, she could not make him speak. And yet, this boy king was able to drag more out of his unwilling mouth in the few minutes they spoke together than she had been able to do in the past 18 years of her life. An old, green eyed monster roared in her stomach, making her eyes narrow and her pulse quicken. But she caught herself before she could act on the jealousy: she was queen now, and with her father acting like a child, she would have to at least act the part of the adult in the room.

“I…. my mother…” The boy stammered, and her father reached forward to grab his hand, to comfort a confused young man, and Lucina ignored the knife through her heart.

In the back, Frederick kept looking back and forth between herself and king Morgan, muttering something she couldn’t quite hear. “Would you take me to her?”

“She wouldn’t want me to…” Morgan muttered, unable to meet her father’s pleading eyes. “She hates you, I think. She always cursed your name above all others.”

Chrom shook his head gently, a boyish smile on his lips. “She doesn’t hate me, quite the opposite of it, actually. But before I say anything else, I need to have answers from her.”

Before Morgan could answer him, Lucina spoke. “Opposite in what way?”

“She loves me. Or, used to at least.” Her father said simply, surprising everyone in the room, and most likely herself the most.

A loud crash could be heard from outside, and seemingly out of nowhere, a piece of wood cracked and bulged, until it opened. The secret door revealed the queen, veiled but furious. “Love?” She cried, her voice heavy. “How could I love a man who had taken me hostage and then first killed my mother and then my father?”

“Robin!” Her father cried out, getting to his feet with a speed that belied his age and injuries.

“Mother!” Morgan cried out, looking more surprised than he should be. Even Lucina knew that every castle had its secret doors and corridors, and spy holes in every room. “You were here all this time?”

The former Queen of Plegia settled her eyes on her father, ignoring her own son, and in the flickering light of the fireplace, Lucina could make out the color of her eyes, a dark brown set alight with anger.

But her father did not back down. “How could you call them your mother and father after they murdered my kind sister?” He yelled back at her, and took a large step towards her, and another, until there was no more distance between them than the thick desert air and twenty years of secrets, spilling from the seams.

Robin snorted in disdain, meeting her father’s bottled up anger with her own without flinching. “You left me with child in a dungeon, what were they supposed to think?”

A child? That meant- Lucina’s eyes roamed over King Morgan, his eyes a bit too light, his hair a bit too blue, his smile- she had see that smile before. Could it be?

Her father was as surprised as she was it seemed, and did not answer immediately. Instead he raised his hand to her face, and gentle like caressing a rose, he pushed the veils that covered her visage away. The former Queen – Robin, as her father called her – flinched when he came to close to her face. “Why didn’t you tell them the truth?” Was a whisper on his lips, and if it wasn’t for her chronic case of morbid curiosity, Lucina would have fled the room there and then.  She didn’t need to see her father’s eyes to know that he drank the sight of the woman like a parched desert dweller, nor did she need to witness a scene so private.

A moment passed, a few seconds where time seemed to halt and two old people, enemies now but perhaps lovers once, merely met each other’s eyes. But then the clock ticked on and the moment vanished.

 

 

**_Morgan VI_ **

When the bubble burst, his mother staggered back, as if this man’s touch was burning. And perhaps she wasn’t wrong, if the heat the threatened to burn away his chest was any indication.

“I didn’t matter what I would have told them.” Robin’s voice was a broken whisper, and Morgan desperately tried to meet her eyes, to get through her. He wanted to scream and shout, cry for answer, but something akin to morbid fascination held him back. “My parents thought I had been raped and shamed, and could I really convince them when all I had of you was a child in my stomach?”

“I -  I never raped you! I loved you, and you loved me too! You were a wife to me, and I remained fateful to your memory until this very day!” The former King cried out, his hands searching for hers in a need to touch and comfort.

But his mother only retreated, a sad look in her eyes that made her look older than the white hair she hid under the remaining black veils. “I loved the sweet boy who freed me from my cell and showed me a different world. How could I ever love the prince that had kidnapped me in the first place?”

“We were at war!”

“And your sister was a casualty of that, just like my parents were.” She retorted with a voice like stone, but Morgan knew her better. She was cracking open, madness and clarity in every single twitch of her lips, and Morgan envied the man in front of her for being the one to make that ancient mask finally crumble.

“I thought you were dead! I heard the princess had been killed for by her own family. When I received Lucina on my doorstep, what was I supposed to think?” Chrom hammered the last nail into the coffin.

“Lucina?” His mother’s eyes skipped straight over her, and perhaps for the first time she allowed herself to look at the child of a man she had loved, one that she had perhaps despised for all of her days, if the story that unfolded before his eyes was any indication. “My… daughter? Could it be?”

Lucina opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it again, her eyes wild and searching for something in the face of a stranger. _Madness_ , that dark voice that always resided in the back of his head whispered maliciously, _was often passed down from parent to child_.

“Our daughter.” Chrom corrected her, but his words were lost on his mother. She kneeled in front of the queen and forwent ancient tradition and a lifetime of shying away from physical contact, and cradled the young woman’s bewildered face in her silk gloved hands.

“Oh Grima. Oh Grima, oh Grima, it is you. You have my mother’s brow, you do!” She muttered an ancient curse under her breath, one that not even Morgan could understand, and smoothed Lucina’s wrinkled brow in wonder.

Lucina said nothing, merely stared, as if struck by thunder while a tear gently trailed down his mother’s cheek. “Oh how she lied to me.”

In the back, the knight and his Pegasus warrior gently closed the door behind themselves, but not before the older man sent him one final smile, a wary yet wonderful one.

The former King -  No, his father – fell to his knees next to his mother, oblivious to the world around him. “You… didn’t know she was yours?”

“They had told me I had lost her,” when his mother spoke, her voice was heavy with a pain that had been bottled up for ages, her hand balled into a fist while her other one never left her lost daughter’s face. “I lost too much blood during the delivery to be lucid enough to remember anything. I had known from the third trimester that I was expecting twins, but when I woke with an empty belly I only had one baby to show. My mother, who had delivered him herself, told me the other child was a stillborn.”

Before the final tear could hit the ground, Morgan jumped up from his chair and into his mother’s arms, who clung to him as if she was going to lose him too. Perhaps, to her, she always felt like she had. Over his mother’s shoulder, he met his long lost twin sister’s eyes as if it were the first time. “Mother, why did you never tell me this?”

His mother took a moment to collect herself, to reconstruct the image of the unbreakable desert queen, but her wild eyes betrayed her inner emotions simmering beneath the surface. “Because…after that, I was broken. My father deemed it wise to cover your illicit birth by proclaiming my death instead of my sister’s. Our faces had never been shown to the public without a veil, and so none but a few close friends were any wiser. That day, Robin died and Aversa became a mother.”

“And your mother brought that daughter to me.” Chrom supplied, his hand resting on his daughter’s knee.

Robin nodded. “Aye. She has the brand of the exalt in her eye. I am not surprised that mother deemed her too much of a thread to remain with me. My father would have killed her, most likely. But that she brought her to you surprises me.”

“A woman, presumably your mother, found Fredrick and gave Lucina to him with only her name and her parentage. After that she disappeared, and I didn’t see her again until she stood in my dungeons, deviant until the end.” His father rubbed his hands together, as if there was still blood on them that he couldn’t scrub away even after all those years.

“And then you executed her.” His mother’s voice was like a stone again.

Chrom nodded, but his daughter gasped at the implication. “A life for a life, a queen for a queen. The law of equal exchange has always been the way of our countries.” Morgan expected his mother to retort sarcastically, but instead she dropped her eyes and nodded, and for not the first time Morgan cursed a few thousand years of tradition before the former king spoke once more. “She had peace with it, I assure you though. She went with dignity unlike anyone I ever saw before.”

His mother pressed her palm to her heart, and a soft smile appeared once again on her face. “… Thank you Chrom.”

“So you do remember my name.” His father said, laughter in his every word. “Please, let me see your face Robin. Let your daughter know her mother. She is just like you, you know? Just as stubborn, just as quick to speak her mind, just as smart. Oh Robin, I thought I had lost you, and it was all my fault!”

Robin let out a strangled cry and tugged away the final layer of clothing away from her face, revealing a long, intricate braid of stark white hair that neither of her children had inherited. Lucina’s hands found themselves around it before she could think about it, her eyes taking every feature on their mother’s face apart and reconstructing it. His mother had aged, and her skin was darker, but not by much. When a careful smile appeared on Robin’s face, a breathless one mirrored in front of her.

“So, you truly are my father?” Morgan said, breaking the silence awkwardly.

“Oh Morgan, look in the mirror and you will see your father looking back.” His mother cried out, almost as if frustrated, which Morgan deemed very unfair considering the circumstances. “Were those not my words whenever you asked who he was, time and again? How could you see Chrom and even have doubts about your parentage?”

For the first time, Morgan looked at the old king as if he would look at a mirror, careful not to break the surface.

His father answered him with a blinding smile of his own, and two welcome arms around him.

They stayed like that for a long time, a family broken, reunited and lost in time. All the while his father’s embrace never faltered.

 

 

**_Lucina VI_ **

“He’s your WHAT?”

“My brother.” Lucina answered Owain happily during dinner, served in her mother’s private rooms and shared only with her family and friends. “Twin brother, actually!”

Aunt Lissa’s eyes flickered between her and her twin a few times, before they roamed over Robin’s unveiled face. “So the mystery lady you were pining after for all these years was the Plegian princess?” She asked her brother, shock palpable in her voice. “Well, that explains why you wouldn’t tell me who her mother was…”

“I thought she was dead, Lissa.” The old king muttered, dodging her accusing glare.

“Without the veil, the likeliness truly is stunning!” Owain declared after they finally agreed to sit next to each other and try to pull the same faces. “Do you possess the brand of the exalt too?”

“The what?”

Lucina stifled a grin in her napkin. “The brand in my eye, little brother.” She closed her unbranded eye, and opened the other wide for him to examine.

“Hey! At no point did we establish that you were older than me!” He cried out instead before turning away from her. “Mother, help me out!”

But their mother was unconcerned with their childish display. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Lissa.” She said, bowing towards the princess ever so slightly, her face once again the picture of sophisticated grace.

“Likewise.” Lissa answered, looking perhaps as awkward as the rest felt. “Pardon my frankness, but how did you two meet in the first place?”

For a second, her parents eyes met as if they debated what version of the story they wanted to disclose. “I was a runaway, I hungered for freedom when I was Morgan’s age. So one night I snuck out of the palace and traveled until my feet could no longer carry me.” Robin explained carefully after a few seconds, her hand slowly intertwining with her father’s to his great delight. “I woke up in a border city, where a few soldiers recognized my mark and took me captive. I lived in your father’s dungeons for the better part of two years, where I was visited by a charming young man who at no point revealed himself to be the prince of Ylisse. Things went sour, and I found out anyway, but at that point my father had already caught wind of the situation and declared war on Ylisse.”

“I set her free the day father died, but it was already too late.” Chrom added grimly. “Emmeryn’s death… I am to blame.” His voice was heavy, and decades of hurt seemed to roll of him in waves.

“No, if anyone is to blame, then it would be me.” Her mother squeezed his hand gently, her stiff façade and clipped tones breaking in compassion. “I ran away, I was stupid enough to get caught, and you certainly didn’t make our children on your own.”

“Okay, too much information.” Lissa interjected before the two could say anything else, holding up her hands in protest. Her father smiled awkwardly and he untangled himself quickly from his former – present? – lover. “The past is the past, and I don’t think either of you were to blame for Emmeryn’s death, so let her rest in peace. It has been decades, so much time that was lost that we will never get back. All those years that I could have annoyed my little nephew!”

“Well, it was nice knowing you, little brother!” Lucina teased him, but he merely looked at her as if she had grown a second head. “I’m not kidding. Once, she almost embraced me to the point that I could not breathe.”

“Death by hugs…” Morgan uttered in wonder, like a child would. His eyes roamed over his mother, his father, before they finally settled on her. She returned his careful smile, and watched his grow fonder as he added: “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

 

 

**_Morgan VII_ **

_To the King of Plegia, From the Queen of Ylisse,_

_My father and I would like to formally invite you and your honored mother for a visit to the Ylissean court to attend a ball in honor of my nineteenth birthday on the twentieth of April. We would be honored to have you as our personal guests to rectify any lingering resentment between our two countries, as well for our own delight._

The letter continued on with formalities and arrangements, but Morgan ignored them for now. Instead, he took a second letter from the envelope. This one was not written on decorated paper, written in a fine hand that probably did not belong to the queen. Instead, the folded letter was small, filled with tiny almost unreadable words that resembled his own.

_Dear little brother,_

_Dad misses mother already, and his pining is making me sick. Please come quickly before he can do something rash like run all the way to Plegia on bare feet, and probably die along the way. Nah asked for you, by the way, you little heartbreaker! Dad sends his love and well wishes, and says he wants you to practice your sword arm before we meet again, because he wants you to try out falchion. I can’t wait to see you and mother again, please give her love and tell her I miss her._

_Love,_

_Your sister Lucina_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the end of this story, aka the trash I forgot to take out earlier. Sorry for the wait! The reason that this story is not put down as finished is because I have a few snippets of Robin's past in the making on Tumblr, that I will eventually group together and post here as well. Enjoy :D


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